


The Wildling and her Kneeler

by Janina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: The King in the North is approached by the "Queen" of the Wildlings, Sansa Ryder. The White Walkers are on their way and she wants temporary asylum for her and her people in exchange for helping the North fight the threat coming. King Jon may have a condition or two of his own. . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GypsyMoon88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsyMoon88/gifts).

> Started posting it on Tumblr, and now I am posting it here.

King Jon Stark had seen the Wildlings when he and Ghost, his direwolf, took walks together in the forest. Ghost liked to hunt for his food, and Jon liked to get away from the confines of Winterfell and ruling and spend some time in the fresh open air. 

On this particular day, the sun was beaming through the trees and early morning snow had freshly covered the land. Ghost was somewhere ahead of him, but not too far should Jon need assistance, and there were two guards following a distance behind. 

Even when he was alone he was never truly alone. But he was lonely, and only there were only few he could trust. 

Finding trustworthy allies who weren’t plotting behind your back for another cause was difficult enough, but having friends was even harder. Was a King every truly allowed to want things for himself? To be himself? 

It was a question he came up against time and time again. A question that so far was a resounding no. A King’s life was always with the Realm in mind. A King worked for the people and did what was best for them. It was what he’d learned from his father as Warden in the North, and it was what he’d learned from his brother, the King in the North. 

Both were dead now.

Enemies. They were everywhere, around every turn, and in every corner. You just had to learn how to sniff them out. And after all the death, all the war, and all the betrayals, Jon hoped he was able to do that well enough now. 

Suddenly, one of the guards shouted, jarring the wolf king from his musings, and he looked up, hearing them running towards him and he saw a flash of furs. Long and gray and black, stark against the vibrant red hair peeking out of the top. They turned and Jon’s breath caught. A woman. He hadn’t expected a woman. Nor one so beautiful at that. Skin as pale as the snow, red lips, and a delicate sloped nose. Their eyes met and Jon took a step in her direction, wanting to see the color of them, and then stopped when his guards rushed past him. 

He shouted at them to stop. They did, albeit reluctantly. 

“Leave her,” Jon said and whistled for Ghost lest his direwolf come across her and think to rip her to shreds. 

She made it up over the crest of the hill and was gone from sight. Jon stood there, staring at that spot for quite some time. His guards rambled onto him about the Wildlings and how they needed to learn not to cross further boundaries. They needed to stay away for what if they decided to infiltrate Winterfell?

“They have giants, Your Majesty!” one of them exclaimed. Clearly, he was put out by not being able to give chase. 

Jon nodded absently, his mind filled with the vision of loveliness he’d just seen. 

After a while, he and Ghost headed back to the castle. 

xxxxxxxxxx

“Something must be done about the Wildlings, Your Grace,” Lord Royce said the next morning during a council meeting. 

Jon rubbed at his chin as he leaned back in his chair at the front of the Great Hall. He thought of the woman he’d seen the day before. He’d thought of her all day and dreamt of her the night before. In his dreams, he met her in the woods and though he beckoned her closer, she would not come. He’d pleaded with her, yet still she would not come. Instead, she’d stood there, shrouded in the shadows, unmoving, 

This was what he’d been reduced to; a mere milksop, dreaming of a woman he didn’t even know. Longing for her in his dream because even after the parade of women the neighboring lords had sent his way, even after the not-so-subtle urging of his friend, the King in the South, Tyrion Lannister, he still would not wed. 

It wasn’t that he was opposed to it. Well...perhaps a little. But he knew what his duty was; he knew that he had to continue the Stark line because Gods knew his sister Arya wouldn’t, and Bran was unable to given his crippled state. His other siblings, sadly, were dead now. 

The thought of children rather warmed him. Often, he indulged in the possibility, of a brood of wolf pups with gray eyes and dark hair. Aye, he could fill Winterfell with Starks and make his parents proud. They would have wanted them all to be happy. To carry on and fill Winterfell with family of their own. 

While Bran remained in Winterfell with him, Arya was exploring the world. Gods only knew where she was now and when she’d be back. 

“Your Grace,” Lord Royce said, interrupting his thoughts. 

“We should send some men to push them back to the wall, let the Night’s Watch take care of them,” Lord Karstark said. 

“Or kill them,” Lord Umber suggested. 

“We’ll not kill them,” Jon said, thinking of red hair and a pert nose. 

“Then what exactly do you plan to do about the problem?” Lord Umber demanded. 

“Perhaps make friends?” he suggested lightly, knowing they’d never go for that. The Wildlings didn’t mingle with kneelers, and kneelers certainly did not mingle with Wildlings. One group was too full of themselves and the other too uncivilized. 

The Northern Lords looked at Jon as though he had gone mad. 

Perhaps he was. One look at a beautiful woman and all that loneliness he’d done so well ignoring had come raging to the forefront. 

“We’ll talk more on it,” Jon finally said. “Just not now.”

“But--” Lord Glover protested. 

“I said not now,” Jon said firmly and got to his feet. He left without a word and went in search of Ghost. 

He was eager for another walk in the woods. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa Ryder, Queen-Beyond-the-Wall of the Wildlings, spied the man his people called King Jon coming closer with his direwolf. Lady, her own direwolf beside her, growled. 

“Quiet,” Sansa said softly to her. 

Lady quieted, yet remained at attention. 

Once King Jon was within shouting distance, Sansa stood up from the hill she was crouched upon, the same one she’d been chased from just the day before while she’d been hunting for meat. Lady had been somewhere, making her own kill, and Sansa had been glad for it. With the king’s direwolf and hers, there could have been quite a fight had they come across one another without their masters to control them. 

“Wildling!” one of his kneelers shouted. 

King Jon held up a hand, his gaze on hers. His other hand went down to his direwolf, and he muttered something that made it stay by his side. That didn’t stop the white direwolf from baring its fangs though. Lady did, too, not one to be outdone. 

He was beautiful; there was no denying that. With his black curly hair, plump lips, and rounded nose, he was a pretty man. But he was a kneeler and his men would kill her on the spot given the chance. Her people had been killed by kneelers in the past, and she didn’t trust them. Not one whit. But she also currently needed them. And they didn’t know it yet, but they needed her and her people, too. 

“King Jon,” she shouted. 

The king looked stunned to be called thus. 

“You know my name,” he shouted back. 

“Aye.”

“How?”

She smirked. “Observed you. How else?”

King Jon ducked his head and she thought perhaps there was a bit of a smile on his face. He looked up again. “What do you want?”

“Why, an audience with the King in the North of course.”

He stepped forward. “Will you come closer then?”

“Your Majesty!” his men cried in outrage in unison. 

She heard him curse as he bowed his head in their direction. Then he looked back up at her. “Do you have a weapon, my lady?”

“I’m no lady,” she said proudly. Naming her direwolf as such was a jest. A lady was not something she’d ever be. But she could be as fierce as Lady, and she could hunt and protect her people, and that’s what she strove to do now. Protect them all. 

She moved her furs aside to show him the sword at her side. “There it stays.”

“You’ll have to do better than that.” He stepped forward and pointed to the bottom of the hill. “You place your sword there and so will we.”

Her eyes darted behind him to his men. “All of them?”

King Jon nodded. “All of them.”

“What do you think, Lady?” she asked softly. 

Lady growled softly and pawed at the muddy snow. 

“Aye, I think it is worth a try,” she murmured. She pointed to Jon and his men. “You all first. I am outnumbered after all.”

“You’ve got a great beast at your side.”

“So do you.”

“Fair point,” he said. 

She could hear the grumbling and protests of his men as he waved them forward to join him at the bottom of the hill. He said nothing, and they did what they were told.

When all weapons were dropped, Sansa and Lady made their way down and she tossed her sword among theirs. 

She and King Jon were up close now. 

“I didn’t think you Wildlings acknowledged Kings,” he said sotto voce. It was a nice voice when not shouting from a distance. And he was prettier up close, too. She’d assumed his eyes were brown, but they were not. They were grey and piercing. Sansa felt as though he could see right to her soul. 

It disturbed her that he made her a bit nervous. Men didn’t make her nervous. Especially not men like him - Kings. Kneelers. She sneered at them. And now she needed them. 

“We don’t,” she said. “I didn’t think Kings gave audiences to Wildlings.”

“We don’t,” he returned. “What do you want?”

“Protection.”

His dark brows raised. “From?”

“White Walkers. Have you ever heard of them?”

He frowned. “Stories here and there. They’re not real, surely?”

She pursed her lips together. “They are. And my people have perished because of them. The Wall will not stand once they make their way to it, and I know they are marching for it now. I’ve seen them.”

“You expect me to believe that the walking ice creatures are real?”

“If you don’t believe me, then you put your people in danger, King Jon,” she said testily. “For when they come, they come with an army of the dead. And they can raise them from those fancy crypts you have in your castle.” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you have to gain from not believing me?”

“What do I have to gain from believing a story meant to scare children away from the Wall?”

“Your life,” she said. “And the life of your people.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows kisses*

Jon appraised the Wildling, Sansa, thoughtfully.

He knew Wildlings were savages. Everyone knew that. But were they also touched, too?

Sansa certainly didn’t look touched. She looked completely sane. And as fierce as anything. 

She was even more beautiful up close. A man could get lost in those ice blue eyes of hers. She faced him with courage. She spoke like a leader, and apparently she was. Her hair, long and red and free made his hands twitch at his sides with the desire to touch it. She stood, tall, proud, her lips tinged pink. He wanted to taste those lips. 

Her cloak hid much, but he could see she wore brown trousers and boots, which surprised him, and oddly enough made him even more intrigued by her. 

“You’ve seen them, you say,” Jon said slowly. 

“Aye. I’ve fought them.”

“And survived.”

“Just barely. Some of my people did not.”

“This is madness,” one of his men muttered. 

Jon looked over his shoulder and shot them a glare. “Leave us.”

“Your Majesty!” one of them exclaimed in protest. 

“Leave us. Don’t go back to the castle, but give us some space to speak.”

Once they were out of earshot, Jon turned back to Sansa. “How do expect me to believe that White Walkers are actually real?”

Her eyes narrowed. She could make a lesser man tremble with her glare. “You require proof?”

“Perhaps.”

“Proof might get you killed.”

“I can send my best men--”

She laughed, and it was full of derision. “You’ll send your best men to do what you will not? Are you not their leader? Shouldn’t you be willing to fight, too?”

“I’ve done nothing but fight for years,” he said irritably. “The Great War - have you heard of it?”

“A bunch of kneelers fighting for who will take the Iron Throne all based on their birth and nothing else? I’m familiar with it. Word does get to us, _King_ Jon.”

“The Iron Throne is melted down to nothing. We have our own kingdoms now.”

“Wonderful. None of that pertains to me.”

“The point is, I fought in that war. I watched my brothers die in it. I fought in King’s Landing against two tyrant Queens. I know all about battle.”

“Then you should heed my warning that another is coming. And I promise you, one much more gruesome and deadly.”

“Let’s say for the sake of argument I believe you. How exactly do you want my protection?”

“There is an abandoned castle just east of here.”

“The Bolton’s. They were killed as traitors to the King in the North.”

“By you?”

He shook his head sadly. “Only after they betrayed and murdered the first King in the North, my brother, Robb.”

“We want the right to stay there. In exchange, we will lend you our help when the White Walkers make their way here.”

Jon laughed at her audacity. “You want Bolton lands. Are you mad? My people will never go for that.”

“They will if you tell them to.”

He laughed again. “Not quite.”

“You’re a king are you not? You are the one that rules the North. You tell them we will stay there, that we are _offering our services_ in battle in exchange of finding safety there, and once the battle is done, if any of us survive, we will leave. Simple as that.”

He clenched his jaw. If there was one thing he could not abide, it was being told what to do. He was the king here, not her. He was the one that made the decisions and said how things would go, not her. 

“I still require proof,” he said. 

“You’re a fool, King Jon,” she spat. “Die then. See if I care.”

She turned to leave, her direwolf growling at him, and Ghost growling back. 

“Wait,” he found himself saying. Whether it was because he didn’t want her to leave, or because some part of him actually believed her story (why else would she be so earnest about it?), he wasn’t ready to fully dismiss her. Not without setting up the opportunity to see her again. 

She turned, brows arched, clearly waiting for what he had to say. 

“I’ll send a raven to Night’s Watch,” he said. “If they can confirm what you say, I’ll consider it.”

She pursed her lips together and nodded curtly. “Fine then.”

“Where shall I meet you? Here? On the morrow?”

“Aye. I will be here. Same time.” She pointed up at an oak tree. “When the sun is just past that tree.”

He probably wasn’t supposed to find her endearing, but he did. He couldn’t help the smile that came. 

She made her way up the hill and Jon watched her go. “You know,” he called out, “it’s customary to at least curtsy before taking leave of a king, since you’re so adamant about not kneeling.”

“You’ll get no curtsy from me, King Jon!” she called back and he laughed. 

xxxxxxxx

“You’re jesting,” Lord Glover groused. “You can’t possibly be serious. The White Walkers are _real_?”

Jon held up the missive he’d received from the Night’s Watch that morning. “Read it here for yourself. This is from the Lord Commander who has not only seen them, but has fought them. They’re real, and they are making their way to the wall.”

“It’s a trick!” Lord Manderly shouted. 

“How is it a trick?” Jon asked pointedly. “I asked for clarification, and I received an answer. What is it you wish me to do now? Not believe the Night’s Watch now? Go past the wall and see for myself? I promise you, Manderly, if I do that, you’re coming with me so you can see for yourself, too.”

There was grumbling among the Lords in the Great Hall. 

“I have asked the Lord Commander to send one of his men who has seen them and fought them to come and talk to us. Perhaps that will allay some of your questions, Manderly?”

More grumbling. 

“But to have the Wildlings on Bolton lands?” Lord Royce asked, the old man looked as though he’d eaten something sour. 

“They’d be contained at least,” Davos, at Jon’s left said. “We don’t want them roaming about raiding our lands, so give them their own.”

“This is absurd to even consider!” Lord Umber exclaimed. 

“I have a duty to the North as King,” Jon said, his voice rising. “My duty is to protect the people I serve.”

“Bringing the Wildlings into the North isn’t protecting anyone!” Lady Mormont said irritably. 

“On the contrary, my lady,” Jon said gently to the twelve-year-old, “If the Wildlings are willing to help with the great threat coming for us here, we could use the numbers and the help in battle. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch informed me they have a leader, they call him The Night King. And he can raise the dead.”

There was shouting, all of them having opinions and wanting everyone to know what they were. Jon wasn’t in the mood. He found he wasn’t often in the mood to hear what the stubborn Lords of the North had to stay. They could be stubborn and pig-headed, and after hearing from the Edd from the Night’s Watch, he had every reason to be worried. The Night’s Watch protected them, but even if they were afraid of what was coming, then there was real reason to worry should the White Walkers breach the Wall. 

Besides, Wildlings had no use for them - it wasn’t as if they wanted a place at his table. They wanted safety. Sansa of the Wildlings wanted to keep her people safe, and help the fight. It was in their best interests to gain as many warriors as they could. 

“Enough!” Jon shouted. 

Silence fell and Jon stared them all down. “The Bolton lands are barren. There’s nothing there. Their castle is probably barely livable so the Wildlings are not asking for much. And they plan to leave once all is said and done. All I suggest for now is we wait to hear what this man from the Night’s Watch reports to us, and then we make our final decision. What say all of you to that?”

“I agree,” Lady Mormont said. “You are our King and have yet to steer us wrong.”

“I am in agreement with Lady Mormont,” Lord Royce said. 

“Anyone else?” Jon asked. 

Lord Glover and Lord Manderly grunted their agreement, but Lord Umber and Lord Karstark remained silent as they scowled at Jon. 

Jon nodded and stood. “That’s enough for today.”

Jon headed out immediately, whistling for Ghost to join him. He was eager to see Sansa again. The night before he’d taken himself in hand more than once to thought of her. He’d found himself wondering how Wildlings made love. He imagined with utter abandon, and he trembled at the thought, excitement rushing through him. 

He licked his lips in anticipation, ignoring the guards that followed him out. “Come on, Ghost. We can’t keep a lady waiting.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa was waiting for him, just as she said she would be. Jon told his guards to stay back, and he and Ghost strode forward and met her at the bottom of the hill again. Her direwolf growled softly, and Ghost growled in return, but neither moved from their masters side. 

"Good day, Sansa," he greeted her. 

"What did your Northern Lords say?" she asked. 

He chuckled. "I'm well, thank you. And you?"

She frowned. "King Jon--"

"Just call me Jon," he said. "The Night's Watch is sending a man with information to speak with us directly about the White Walkers. The Lord Commander has confirmed what you told us."

She nodded slowly. "But your Northern Lords don't believe it still."

"They'll take some convincing, but I believe you. I believe Edd."

"Edd - the Lord Commander?"

"Aye."

She threw him a withering look. "You only believe me because you believe him. You thought I was making up stories to get land. I don't want your lands, King Jon. The Free Folk want freedom as we always have. We've no use for castles and lords. We just want to live and be safe."

"And from one leader to another, I understand what it means to want to protect your people. How many would be able to fight when the White Walkers come?"

"A thousand. Not the children of course. But we are a group of warriors, even the women." She held her head high, clearly proud. 

"I can see that you are a warrior," he murmured, looking her over appreciatively. He could see her trousers again today, and the leather she wore with buckles and straps hugging the material to her body. She had a knife strapped to her leg. 

He looked up at her, his blood stirred. "We'll have to work out the details," he said huskily. "See what repairs need to be done at Dreadfort."

"Dreadfort? Is that what that monstrosity is called?”

“Aye.”

“Are you offering your services for making repairs, King Jon?" asked with a smirk.

"Jon," he reminded her. "Just Jon. You despise kneelers and titles, remember?"

"Ah, but I know you have use of them."

"I don't," he said. Before she could question him about that, he asked, "When would you like to ride out to Dreadfort?"

"Should we not wait until everyone is in agreement that we can stay there?"

"You'll stay," he said. "I'll do them this courtesy, but you'll stay."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Just like that?"

He met her gaze and held it. “Just like that.”

“Are there conditions?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a slow predatory smile. “I suppose you’ll just have to meet me tomorrow at Dreadfort so I can let you know what they are.”

Her brow arched, but she oddly looked amused and unsurprised. “Fine then. Same time as yesterday…_Jon_.”

And then she headed up the hill and Jon wished they were going to Dreadfort today instead of tomorrow, just so he could spend a little more time with her. 

************

“Well?” Ygritte, Sansa’s “sister” asked her when she returned to camp. Her people, made their way closer, wanting to know what their ultimate fate was going to be. 

Yrgitte, her bright red hair pulled back from her face at the sides and left to hang loose and a bit unkempt down her back, slipped an arrow into its sheath at her back and planted her hands on her hips. “What did the kneeler say?”

“He’s going to let us stay at Dreadfort,” Sansa replied. “That’s what the castle and it’s lands are called.”

“That sounds a wee bit scary,” Tormund, a big hulking Wildling also with bright red hair, said. “All the women are free to stay with me in my room for protection!” He laughed raucously and there were a few laughs that rippled through the group. 

“Come, sister,” Ygritte said. “Tell everyone your news.”

Sansa nodded as she made her way to a boulder that Tormund and Ygritte had to help her onto. She found her footing, made sure she was stable, and smiled down at her people. 

“I come with good news!” she said, voice raised to make sure they could all hear her. “We will be able to stay at the castle!”

A mixed response followed - some cheered, others remained silent. 

“What will he make us do as payment?” Val, the best spearwife next to Ygritte asked as she came forward. Her blonde hair was braided back from her face and her blue eyes were sharp and wary. 

“We fight when the time comes,” Sansa replied. _Though I have a feeling he might ask more from me._

Val’s mouth turned down; she looked wary. She and Ygritte shared a look. 

“And what about the Northern bastards?” someone Sansa couldn’t see shouted.

“They’ll abide by what their King says,” Sansa returned. 

“Do you really believe that?” Someone else shouted. 

“What would you have me do then?” Sansa demanded. “We came to this agreement--”

“Not all of us!” a voice rasped from the middle of the crowd. 

“Let your leader speak!” Ygritte shouted, narrowing her eyes at the crowd. Several shifted away from her. 

Sansa nodded at her in thanks. “This was what _the majority of us _ wanted to do,” she continued to the crowd. “What we planned. Do you prefer to face the White Walkers here in the woods when they march?”

Silence fell. 

“We have much to fear from lords and kings, too!” Orell, in the front told her, loud enough for people to hear.

“You’ll have much more to fear if you don’t shut your mouth,” Tormund warned him. 

“It’s all right, Tormund,” Sansa said. “He’s afraid.” She looked out at the sea of faces. The people her father had trained her to lead should something happen to him. 

Something had. 

White Walkers had killed him and the men he’d been with while on a scouting mission. Sansa had been the first to see her father’s body, his legs and his torso in two different places. That day, Sansa had fought her first White Walker, and she vowed that she would not let them best her or her people.

“We are fierce!” she told the crowd. “We are strong! Are we not?”

A half-hearted whoop went through the crowd. 

“We have much more to fear from those creatures who took my father from us. A bunch of kneelers are no match for what’s coming, for what we’ve seen and what some of us have fought. All of us together can handle a bunch of cunts in fancy castles!”

Now they cheered in agreement and Sansa knew she had them. 

“We will fight!” she shouted. “And we will win!”

Now they whooped whole-heartedly and Sansa smiled. “And we will band together as a people as we always have!”

Another cheer. 

“Let’s celebrate!” Tormund shouted and that garnered a loud raucous cheer that left Sansa smiling. 

Tormund helped her down from the rock and he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at his sides. “You do your father proud,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Thank you, Tormund.”

“You get the first drink,” he said and tugged on her hand to march her through the crowd. 

Sansa would happily take that drink, and many more, in celebration. For the first time since she’d seen the gruesome sight of her father’s remains almost three moons ago now, she felt hope. 

xxxxxxxxxxx

The following afternoon, Jon eagerly dismounted his horse when he saw Sansa appear through the castle gates. He started forward, his soldiers following behind him along with Lord Royce and Lady Mormont. He’d told them his plan to meet with Sansa at Dreadfort so she could see the castle, and told them if they wanted to take her measure, they could accompany him. They’d agreed to do so. 

Jon stopped his stride when he saw Sansa had brought her own people with her: two women and a rather large man with wild red hair and even wilder blue eyes. Jon could tell when a man was sizing him up, and this man was. Jon stared back, letting him know that he was not afraid. 

The man said something to Sansa and she looked at him sharply while the two women with her laughed. Sansa and the other two women made a striking group, all beautiful in their own way, but it was Sansa who commanded his attention. 

When they were a few feet away, she stopped. The giant man was at her right. The two women at her left. “King Jon,” she said. 

“Sansa,” he said and nodded his head. “Welcome to Dreadfort.”

Her gaze flickered to Lord Royce and Lady Mormont. “You’ve brought company.”

“I have. Sansa, this is Lord Royce and Lady Mormont.”

“A lord and a lady,” Sansa murmured. 

“How old is the little lady anyway?” the giant man asked. “Is she a ruler of her own lands?”

“Aye, I am,” Lady Mormont said with a glare of warning. 

“Fuck me, they get them young, don’t they?” the giant man muttered. 

Jon might have laughed under other circumstances. But he knew how well that would go over with Lord Royce and Lady Mormont so he wisely kept his mouth shut. Besides, he was wondering exactly what this man was to Sansa. He watched her discreetly nudge him and he grinned at her, which caused her to smile. 

“We’d like to thank you for this opportunity to meet with you,” Sansa said, her head held high. 

She was good at this, Jon observed. This was why she was in charge and not the giant next to her. 

“I’d like to introduce you to my family...of sorts,” she said and gestured to the giant. “Tormund.” She gestured to the women. “Val is next to me, and Ygritte is next to her.”

“My but he’s a pretty King,” Ygritte said boldly, staring at Jon. 

Jon did a double take; he hadn’t been expecting that. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could take this inside and see what we may be working with.”

Everyone agreed and Jon led the way. He looked over his shoulder at Sansa, still flanked by Tormund, Val, and Ygritte, and wondered if he would be able to get her alone at all that day. 

Being outside Dreadfort had been hard enough, but being the castle where the Bolton’s had turned on them all and slew Robb right in front of him was harder. 

He could still see Robb sliding to the floor, a sword through his heart. Those bastards had thought to stage a sneak attack, but they hadn’t counted on Jon’s mistrust of the Bolton’s and him insisting on bringing soldiers with them. What could have been a complete massacre had ended with Roose and his son Ramsay dead, and those who hadn’t been killed, fleeing for their lives. 

Jon had made sure to track every single traitor down and kill them slowly. Painfully. 

Just as he had Joffrey Lannister for killing his father and his mother. 

Shaking himself out of the memories, he turned away from the spot in the great hall where Robb had been murdered and looked around, assessing the place with a critical eye. “It will need some work to be habitable.”

“If we agree to let you stay,” Lord Royce said, eyeing Tormund. 

Sansa arched a brow. “I’m sure you have questions,” she said. She glanced at Lady Mormont. “Both of you. About White Walkers.”

“Aye,” Lady Mormont said. “Many.”

Jon, meanwhile, was trying to push down the memories of the slaughter this room saw. It was hard. Just when he thought he had moved on…

“Let’s move into the library,” he said quickly, and rushed ahead, leaving no chance for argument. Not that he expected to get one. He was the King after all, and that came with some perks. 

He led them down the hall and into an equally larger room that didn’t have much in the way of books, but was at least a bit warmer than the hall had been, and had some comfortable looking chairs. 

“Let’s sit,” he said and sat first, as was customary, near the fireplace that held no fire. 

They all followed suit, adjusting chairs that had more or less already been set up around the fire. 

“Well, Lord Royce and Lady Mormont,” Sansa began. “What would you like to know?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/ZooHNp5)

Jon watched Sansa as she spoke to him, Lord Royce and Lady Mormont of the White Walkers. She didn’t speak like the others she’d brought with her. She spoke almost like a lady, even if she didn’t dress like one. He wondered at her, at what her upbringing had entailed. Had she been stolen away - a noblewoman taken and raised by Wildlings? 

And then, of course, there were the things she was telling them. The things her people grew agitated by. If even the giant redheaded man she’d brought had fear in him over the White Walkers then they were not only real, but fearsome too. 

Men made of Ice, they explained. The Night King, the stuff of legend, was real and he was the leader. He could raise the dead, and they had seen it happen with their own two eyes when their own people had been killed by the mindless White Walkers and then raised by the Night King. 

“The only way to kill them is with dragon glass and fire,” Sansa explained. 

“I know where we can get dragon glass,” Jon said. “From Dragonstone. It’s abandoned now that Stannis Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen have perished.”

“Targaryen…” Sansa mused. “The one with the dragons?”

Jon frowned. “Aye.”

“Have any of those kicking around?” Tormund asked. 

“No,” Jon said. Another sore subject. He hated to think of how he’d had to plot behind the the Dragon Queen’s back in order to ensure she didn’t take the Iron Throne. In the end, his sword to her gut had done the trick well enough. But that was after she’d killed almost all the people in King’s Landing in her desire to “purify” the capital with dragon fire. All but one dragon had died, and that one had flown off to Gods knew where with the Targaryen Queen’s body. 

“We can send some of my people to Dragonstone if you can send some of your men to lead the way,” Sansa said. 

She was nothing if not efficient, Jon thought. 

“Tell me,” he said. “How did the White Walkers come into being exactly? I am not quite certain of their origins.”

“They were created by the Children of the Forest as protection against the First Men who were cutting down their trees and slaughtering their tribe,” Val said. 

“The Children of the Forest shoved dragonglass daggers into the chests of the First Men to create the White Walkers,” Ygritte continued. 

“So we’ve heard,” Tormund added and everyone let out a nervous laugh. 

“They don’t stop until they’ve killed everyone in their path,” Sansa said. “And it’s not a pretty death if they get their hands on you. They will rip you apart if given the chance.”

Lady Mormont shuddered. 

“I’ve seen the guts of my men ripped from their bodies and poured out onto the snow. Blood like the Trident flowing everywhere,” Tormund said with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Lord Royce looked disgusted. He’d seen battle, he’d seen blood and guts, but he didn’t necessarily want to hear about it. “We have a member of the Night’s Watch coming to corroborate your stories of them,” he said. “Perhaps in the meantime we could see what needs to be done to make this place habitable should you stay here for a time.”

Ygritte, Val, and Tormund looked at each other and then to Sansa. She nodded and stood. 

“You do not stand before the king does,” Lady Mormont scolded. 

Sansa arched a brow and opened her mouth to answer when Jon stood. “It’s all right, my lady,” he said to the young girl. “Come, let’s split up. Sansa and I will see to the second floor. Lord Royce, Lady Mormont, perhaps you’d like to explore this floor?”

“The rest of us will take the kitchens,” Tormund said. “Can’t do much if we can’t eat!”

He led the charge and Val, before following Ygritte, whispered in Sansa’s ear before rushing off. Whatever the woman said had Sansa sending him a furtive glance.

Everyone split, and Jon and Sansa made their way up stone steps to the second floor of the castle. 

“We’ll need more than the second floor,” Sansa told him. 

“Then we can check the rest,” he said. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Jon clasped his hands behind his back as he and Sansa meandered down the hall of the second floor to the first bedchamber. After the third, Jon finally spoke, “What did the Lady Val whisper in your ear?”

“She’s not a lady anymore than I am.”

“You speak like one.”

“My father taught me how to sound like a kneeler if I ever needed to negotiate with one.”

Jon smiled. “Or several of them as the case may be.”

He stopped in the middle of the hall and she stopped and looked at him in question. “What did she say?” he asked again. 

Sansa took a step toward him. “She told me you were pretty and that if it was me you wanted as payment for allowing us to stay here, I should accept.”

He bridged the gap between them, standing so close he could feel her breath on his face. Her blue eyes were bright even in the dim hallway. A shaft of sunlight from an open bedchamber door hit her hair making it look like fire. 

He reached up, hand shaking, and touched the illuminated silken curls. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you on that hill outside Winterfell.”

“Do you desire me then, Jon?” she whispered. 

“Yes,” he growled softly. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not. I know what lust looks like on a man. I’ve seen it before.”

He didn’t like that. Jon didn’t want to know about others before him. “I don’t wish to know,” he said.

She smirked. “If you’re looking for a maid, you should look to one of your ladies,” she said and started to walk away from him. 

Jon grabbed her arm and hauled her back. “I do not want any lady,” he growled. “I want you. Do you want me?”

She smiled, a sultry smile that had Jon hardening. She placed one finger under his chin. “You _are_ rather pretty…”

“Is that yes then?”

She leaned forward and licked at his parted mouth. “What do you think?” she whispered. 

That was all Jon needed to hear. He gripped her waist and drew her against him, wanting her to feel his desire. He bent his head and made to kiss her. She nipped at him and laughed and he attempted to kiss her again. She evaded him and he gripped her hips tighter and growled again as he pushed her to the wall behind her. “Dammit, let me kiss you,” he demanded. 

She reached up and held his face in her hands and stared at him for one long moment as though considering if she should or not. But then she kissed him and Jon felt himself soaring high like one of Bran’s ravens. He did not kiss her with finesse. He kissed her greedily and as such, it was sloppy. She didn’t seem to mind though, thank the Gods, and she decided when to end it but pulling her head back. He chased her lips with his own, but she stopped him. 

“Do you want me here?” she asked. 

It took a moment for his brain to catch up to what she had just said. “Here?” he asked. “Right here? Now?”

She nodded solemnly. 

He moved away from her as though burned. “No,” he spat. “I don’t want some fumbling tryst in a cold abandoned castle. You’re not a whore. I won’t treat you like one.”

“I know I’m no whore, Jon Stark,” she snapped back, eyes flashing. “I don’t offer myself as one. I’m not one of your ladies that need a proper bed. Wildlings take what pleasure we can when we can have it. It doesn’t make us whores.”

Jon held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stepped back into her space and lifted her hand to his mouth. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want, Jon?”

“I do want you in a bed,” he said softly. “_My_ bed. All night.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what would your fancy lords and ladies say to that?”

“They can hang,” he whispered and nipped at her lips. She leaned in to kiss him and this time he evaded her. He grinned. “But it’s not payment. You promised to fight with us when the White Walkers come. That’s your payment.’

She looked suspicious. “That’s all?”

“After what you told us, that sounds like a hefty enough sum does it not? You and your people, you can help us plan and then you can help us fight.”

She nodded. 

“Wanting you is separate from that,” he murmured as he bent his head and nuzzled at her cheek. “And if you want me, too…?”

“I do.”

He smiled broadly. “Then we are in agreement?”

She lunged at him and kissed him properly. He groaned and gripped her close against him. Parting, she nodded. “Aye. We are in agreement.”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Tomorrow I want you to meet me at our usual spot. I’ll take you inside Winterfell. And you’ll stay the night with me.” He kissed her deeply. “Say yes.”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

His eyes dancing with lust and promise, he took a step back and gestured down the hall. “Shall we continue with our inventory then?”

Sansa nodded, hating how she felt a bit off kilter. How had the conversation gone from her being in control to him being in control? She glanced at him as they made their way to the next bedchamber. He was grinning like a fool. 

She was going to have to take back control of this situation. Starting tomorrow in his bedchamber.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous banner by the talented dena1984. Thank you so much, love! 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/lfgQ1ni)

“I knew it!” Ygritte crowed. Sansa had just told them about she and Jon’s planned meeting the following day.

Sansa rolled her eyes as she, Ygritte, Tormund, and Val made their way back to their camp from Dreadfort. 

“Even I think he’s rather pretty,” Tormund said, nodding. “Probably has a small cock though, being a kneeler and all.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” Sansa said and they all laughed together. 

Inside though, she felt a bit shaken. King Jon made her feel off kilter. No man and no woman had ever made her feel that way. With partners, she was always the one in charge. Whether respected as Mance’s daughter and their leader, or because she made it clear she was and would be in charge, Sansa never felt as though she wasn’t unsure of her footing with a partner. 

This, though, with Jon...he made her feel something she didn’t often feel: yearning. Desire she was familiar with, but yearning was something she was certainly not at all familiar with and it left her feeling unsteady. 

“What do you think of the King, Sansa?” Val asked. “Do you fancy him?”

“He’s all right. For a kneeler,” Sansa said nonchalantly. 

Val just smiled, and Sansa saw the knowing glint in her eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Sansa made sure she cleaned herself well and proper the following morning before meeting Jon. She brushed out her hair and left it loose and free save for one small braid on the side of her head. She wore her best gray leather trousers, her thick gray and white tunic, and a dark grey cloak with furs around the neck to keep her warm. 

“You’re a Wildling Queen,” Val teased her. 

Sansa smirked. “Just a Wildling.”

“He’s gonna fall to his knees for you.”

“Do you think so?”

“He’s taken with you, Sansa. Any fool could see that. I think it makes his people uneasy because they can see it, too. And if they are blind and can’t, they will after today.”

Sansa frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about being surrounded by kneelers. It makes me uneasy.”

“Your Jon will take care of you,” Val said. 

“My Jon, is he?” Sansa said with a laugh. 

Val smiled. “He is. And if he’s not, he will be after tonight.”

Sansa threw her head back and laughed. 

“You’d better go before your lover sends out an army looking for you.”

Sansa smiled and nodded. “Keep Tormund on task.”

“Keep that King on task, too.”

Sansa laughed again and headed out. 

xxxxxxxxx

Seeing Sansa crest the hill, leading her horse behind her made Jon sigh in relief. He was afraid she wouldn’t show up, that she’d changed her mind about spending the night in his bed. 

He’d hardly been able to find sleep the night before. It had remained just out of arm’s reach, his thoughts consumed with fantasies of Sansa being there with him. He’d been hard and aching for most of the night, taking himself in hand several times. He’d not done that so much since he was a green boy who’d just seen his first pair of tits. 

“You came,” he breathed anxiously when she was close. 

“I said I would,” she said. “Did you doubt me?”

He leaned in and kissed her quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Was that your kiss to greet me?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice. 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“Well, then…” She took his face in her hands and he wished her gloves were off so he could feel her bare skin. He leaned in closer to her, wanting desperately to taste her. Finally, when her lips touched his in a languid kiss, Jon moaned. 

The kiss ended much quicker than Jon would have liked, and he was panting by the time she moved away from him. 

“Come,” he said hoarsely. “Let me show you Winterfell.”

xxxxxxxx

To Sansa, Winterfell was like any other castle she’d seen- whether in the dark of night when they were raiding it, or even during the day when they were doing the same. It was all gray stone granite and iron, turrets and watchtowers. There were people everywhere, going here and there, to and fro, just like a Wildling camp. 

Jon took great pride in showing her The Broken Tower which Sansa could not stop staring at. The way it was caved in with jagged stone at the top, it somehow appeared majestic and mysterious at the same time with all the ravens that flew and cawed around it. 

“Do people go in there?” she asked in wonderment.

“Not very often,” he murmured. “My brother Bran used to climb that tower when he was a boy.”

“Gods,” she murmured. “Does he stay closer to the ground now?”

“He cannot move his legs any longer. He is bound to a wheelchair.”

Sansa pointed to the tower. “Did he fall?” she asked, wide-eyed. 

“Not from the tower, no,” Jon answered. “He was pushed from the keep nearby.”

“_Pushed_?” 

Jon nodded, sadness in his gray eyes. “The beginning of the war.”

Sansa placed her hand on his arm gently. “I am sorry, Jon.”

He placed his hand over hers. “Thank you. Let me show you the Godswood and the hot springs next.”

The Godswood was indeed beautiful, but it was the hot springs that garnered her attention more. She knelt beside it and took off one glove to dip her hand in. She moaned at the warmth. “Hot springs are hard to come by,” she told Jon who knelt, smiling, beside her. 

“The castle is built upon them. It’s because of them that the castle is kept warm. We still have fires, but sometimes they are not needed.”

She stood, casting her gaze to the sky. “It is growing dark,” she said. “Perhaps we should make our way inside.”

Jon stood and grabbed her ungloved hand and kissed the back of it. “We will sup alone,” he said huskily. “And then we will retire.”

Sansa nodded her agreement and pulled her hand away to tug her glove back on. “Lead the way, Jon.”

“May I steal a kiss first?” he asked. 

“Not stealing if its freely given,” she murmured and kissed him soundly. 

He gripped her waist, holding her to him. “Thank you for letting me show you my home.”

“Thank you for showing it to me,” she said softly. 

And then, walking side-by-side, shoulders touching and arms brushing, the pair walked back to the castle to sup before their night together began. 

xxxxxxxxx

All day Jon had been waiting for this moment. The moment when he’d take Sansa to his bedchamber. He’d barely been able to eat in anticipation of it, but he admired that she supped with nary a care. The meat pies that night were especially good. As were the lemon tarts that Sansa seemed to take a keen liking to. He would be sure to send her back to her camp with some. 

If he was able to let her go after…

She didn’t let on that she could be feeling as nervous as he was as he led the way to his bedchamber. Once they arrived, he pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her in. 

“My, but look at all these riches,” she murmured as she looked around. 

Jon didn’t think his bedchamber was particularly ostentatious, but he supposed for a Wildling who was unused to draperies, massive beds, and all the linens and furs that went along with it, it was a bit much. His bed alone took up most of the space, and his mind went to all the ways he could take Sansa on it. 

When his door shut, he pulled Sansa into his arms and kissed her hungrily. “All day,” he said huskily, “All day I have wanted you here. It was all I could think of last night when I was trying my damndest to sleep.”

“I have invaded your thoughts aplenty then,” she observed with amusement. 

“Aye, you’ve bewitched me.”

“Then stop talking and fuck me already.”

He winced at her abrupt and coarse language and she cocked her head to the side. “Did that hurt your delicate sensibilities, _Your Highness_.”

“I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love to you.”

She smirked. “Are you in love with me, Jon Stark?”

No, he wasn’t, he thought. But whatever he felt wasn’t just about fucking either. He wouldn’t upset his kingdom by supplying the Wildlings with a castle if all he was looking for was a fuck. 

He kissed her by way of answer, thinking it unromantic to talk about how he wasn’t in love with her, even if he most definitely felt something for her. Something he wasn’t quite sure about. _Obsession,_ he thought. _She has consumed my thoughts._

She kissed him back, taking control of the kiss and then pulled away and knelt down before him. She worked the laces of his trousers and Jon thought he might faint. “Sansa,” he gasped and slid his fingers into her hair. 

“Don’t ruin my braid,” she told him. 

He moved his hand away from her braid and almost laughed at how easily she took control of him. 

The first touch of her hot mouth aroiund his cock had him cursing. When she slithered her tongue around the head, he surged forward into her mouth. She staid him with her hands on his thighs and began to suck him the way she wanted. He didn’t want to know how much practice she had doing this for it was clear this was not her first time. 

“I love your mouth,” he murmured. “Your hot mouth sucking my cock...fuck, Sansa!”

She stroked his balls, rolling them in her hands and then tongued them. 

Jon went cross-eyed. It had been too long and he wanted her too damn much. He pushed her gently away and she looked up at him with one brow arched. 

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth.” He smirked. “Not this time anyway. I want in you.”

She rose to her feet and locked eyes with him as she began to undress. Jon reached out and helped her, mindful not to tear away at her garments the way he wanted. He just wanted everything off and to be inside her already. It took work to calm himself. His hands shook and his cock ached. 

“I’ve never wanted another woman as much as I want you,” he gasped. 

“I’m sure you say that to all the women you’ve bedded.”

“No,” he said harshly, grabbing her arm and making her look at him. “No.”

Her mouth parted in surprise and he took the opportunity to kiss her while pushing the remaining garments off and away. When she was bare, Jon stepped back and, panting, drank in the sight of her bare body. Her skin seemed to glow in the soft light of the room. The fire in his fireplace made her hair appear like a glowing ember. Long legs, flared hips, a flat stomach and full breasts. She was - 

“Perfect,” he whispered. “So beautiful.”

“Your turn,” she said and went to work on undressing him. He helped her, and quickly. He didn’t care a bit if he tore anything of his. All he cared about was feeling her bare body against his. And when that moment came, he groaned and nuzzled at her neck. 

“You are a pretty man, Jon Stark,” she said softly in his ear. 

“Thank you...I think. I don’t care. I just want you. Get on the bed for me, Sansa. I want to sup on your cunt.”

“Careful, Jon, you’re sounding like me now,” she laughed. 

“There’s a time and a place for it,” he said and lifted her in his arms. He couldn’t wait for her to move. He placed her on the bed and she scooted back until she was in the middle of it. He crawled onto the bed and over her. “When I’m trying to seduce you is not the time. Now that I am crawling out of my skin to have you, it is the right time.”

She spread her legs and pushed his head down to her cunt. “By all means, Your Highness.”

He laughed shortly and nipped at her thighs for her impertinence. 

“I’ll not shy away from telling you what I want and where I want you, Jon. I hope you can handle that.”

“Only if I can do the same with you.”

“Hmmm...we’ll see...Oh!”

He grinned and slid his tongue around her nub in three circles. He then parted her nether lips and slid one finger inside her, curling it inside her the way he’d been taught once upon a time by a whore, and stroked. He wanted her to scream his name. He had a feeling it was going to take some work and he was more than up for the task. She was delicious and he wanted her to remember this night for a very long time. He had a feeling he’d never forget it. 

She moaned and carded her fingers through his hair, pulling on his curls just a bit. Then she was pushing her hips up to his mouth and he suckled her nub into his mouth. 

“More Jon,” she muttered. 

“Tell me what you like,” he said against her mound. “How do you want it?”

She pushed his head away and he felt stricken with panic. She wasn’t going to stop now was she? Had he been doing so terrible?

“On your back,” she ordered a bit breathlessly. 

He immediately complied and she climbed over him and brought her cunt right to his mouth. She wrapped her hands around the top of his headboard and used her knees to keep her upright. 

“Lick me,” she said. 

He groaned and placed his hands on her arse. She moved her hips over his mouth and Jon licked at her greedily, letting her use him as she wanted. When he slid his tongue inside her folds, she screamed and he felt her wetness on his tongue. He drank from her, teasing her nub, and then she screamed again and pushed away from him, straddling his hips. 

She was shaking and looking at him with wide blue eyes. 

“Come here,” he growled and reached for her. She leaned down over him and he gathered her in his arms and kissed her hungrily. It made him impossibly harder to know she was tasting herself on him. 

“Do you want to ride me?” he asked lowly. 

She nodded and reached down between them to place him at her opening. 

He reached up and framed her face with his hands, mimicking her earlier action. “Look at me,” he demanded. “I want your eyes on me when you take me inside you.”

She thankfully did as she was told, and kept her eyes on him as she slid down his length, working herself over him until he was fully seated inside her. Her eyes fluttered shut and Jon moved his hand to her braid and tugged gently. “Eyes on me,” he demanded and her eyes flew open. 

She moved slowly and he wondered if it was to punish him for being so demanding. He wanted her to go faster, but he also didn’t want this to ever end. The feeling of her was something he had never felt before. Not like this. She fit him inside her so perfectly. When she swirled her hips and tightened her inner muscles around him he bucked up. “Sansa,” he hissed. 

She smiled the smile of a woman knowing what she was doing and did it again. 

He couldn’t take it any longer now. He moved them swiftly so that she was on her back. He thrust inside her hard and held himself there. Her legs wrapped around him and he sunk inside her deeper. So deep he didn’t know where she ended and he began. 

“Gods!”

She put her hands on his arms and pushed her hips up. “More,” she begged. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. With sweat beading on his forehead, Jon started to pump her hard. So hard she moved up the bed. “Yes!” she gasped with each thrust inside her. 

“Peak for me,” he begged. “I’m going to cum, Sansa.”

“Touch me!” 

He placed his thumb on her nub and stroked her as he pumped inside her hard and fast. Her mouth opened and it took a moment for her scream to come out, but when it did, Jon thought she might take the walls down. But then he was right behind her, roaring out a release so hard and deep it felt as though his spine was being pulled from his body. He swore the room shook. 

Weak, he collapsed against her and panted into her neck. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think. 

Nor, it seemed could Sansa. 

“Are you well?” he finally managed to ask. 

She pushed at him and he rolled onto his back beside her. He turned his head to look at her while she stared up at the canopy. 

“Sansa,” he croaked. Gods, he had never peaked so hard in his life. She looked at him, looking thunderstruck. 

He smiled and moved so that he was on his side next to her. He drew her into his arms and kissed her slowly, taking his sweet time in tasting her, feasting on her. “Rest, darling,” he purred. “The night is not over yet.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lovely banner by dena-1984!
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/lfgQ1ni)

It was hours later after the first go, and now they were on their second. This time, Jon wanted it slow. He’d wanted Sansa too much the first time and had been out of his mind with it. He’d tried taking his time and ended up pounding her into the bed. Although, he was fairly certain the woman currently underneath him hadn’t been particularly interested in taking it slow that first time either. 

Now, he was moving over her, braced on his elbows, one hand at the top of her head tangled in her hair. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t stop gazing down at her, at how beautiful she was and how she stole his breath away every time he looked at her. 

She pushed at him, moving them so that he was on his back and she was over him. He sat up, needing to be close to her. He looked up at her as she moved over him and drew her head down with one hand in her hair at the back of her head to kiss her. 

She lifted her head and threw it back as she moaned, changing the angle slightly as she rode him. Jon took the opportunity to worship her teats. He held one in his hand and kneaded it while sucking the other in his mouth. 

She gasped and clenched around him and Jon knew she liked it. So he kept doing it. She started moving faster, and he let her other breast go and looked up at her. He could feel her hair brushing his thighs and he gripped her hips. 

“You’re so beautiful, Sansa,” he breathed. “Gods, you are the Maiden reborn.”

She leaned down and kissed him and he wondered if she meant to shut him up. 

He was close and he buried his face in her neck in an attempt to hold on until she peaked. “Stay here with me,” he murmured. “Stay always.”

She threw her head back and cried out and after a few more thrusts, Jon followed. It wasn’t the eruption of earlier, but it made him dizzy and breathless nonetheless. Her name rushed from his mouth in a chant. 

When she went limp in his arms, he cradled her close and lay back, taking her with him. 

“Stay,” he murmured, holding her against him tightly. “Don’t go.”

Soon,they both drifted off yet again. 

xxxxxxxxxx

It was almost dawn, but not quite yet when Sansa awoke. She was on her back and Jon was beside her on his side, one hand on her stomach as though making sure she didn’t go anywhere. 

Too bad. 

Sansa, ever adept at the art of sneaking did just that. She slipped out of the bed without waking him. She dressed quickly without waking him, and slipped out of the room without waking him. 

Two guards stood at the ready. They stared at her and Sansa knew they’d heard everything inside. She didn’t care. She was used to hearing others fuck, and she was used to being heard fucking. She did wonder if some part of Jon would care though. Perhaps not. He was probably used to it by now since he had guards at his door.

“The King is still asleep,” she whispered. 

She hurried down the hall lest they wake him, thinking that perhaps she’d slit his throat in his slumber. 

After getting her horse at the stables, Sansa managed to make it outside the castle walls. She heaved a deep sigh of relief. She was free. 

She kicked her horse to get it moving and through the creeping light of dawn, Sansa rode hard and fast home. To her people. To safety. There was no King Jon there to make her lose herself in his touch. There was no Jon to make her peak harder than she’d ever had in her life. No Jon to make her feel out of control. 

What had that all been about? How did a _kneeler_ make her lose all sense of herself?

When she got to camp which was being packed up to head to Dreadfort, she easily found Val and Ygritte in her tent. They lay entwined together and Sansa longed to join them. She sat down upon the furs and Val shifted to look at her. “Sansa?”

“Aye, it’s me,” Sansa sighed. 

Val rolled over and looked at her. “You’re back earlier than I expected.” She grinned. “How was he?”

Sansa let out a shuddering breath. 

“Sansa?”

In answer, Sansa turned and lay down next to Val, letting her wrap her up in her arms. “What happened, sweet girl?” Val whispered. 

“I enjoyed myself.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Val laughed softly. 

“It is. I don’t want to like, never mind _want_ a kneeler so much.”

“But you do.”

Sansa nodded and felt tears spring to her eyes. She missed her father. She didn’t know why she should think of her father in this moment, but she did. Perhaps because she needed to hear him tell her how kneelers like King Jon were not to be trusted. That they were the ones who were savages, and not them. They were the free folk; they didn’t have the same rules and they had no use for them. They lived how they wanted and didn’t kill each other for a throne. 

“It is all right to like him, Sansa,” Val murmured. “He’s kind. He’s helping us.”

“I’m not a lady,” Sansa said. “Our worlds are very different. He’ll be a King until some other kneeler kills him or he dies, and I’ll be a Wildling until I’m killed or I die.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun,” Ygritte chimed in. “Now quit yappin’ and go to sleep!”

Val and Sansa giggled and after a time, Val stroking Sansa’s hair lulled her into sleep. 

xxxxxxxx

Jon groaned softly as he stirred from sleep. His muscles ached and a sleepy smile overtook his face - these were not the same aches as he had when he trained for battle. Nay, these were the aches of a night spent coupling. 

He rolled over, hoping for another go with his lover but found her gone. His smile fell. He sat up and clambered out of bed, throwing on a tunic and trousers. He padded to his door and pushed open his door. “Where is she?” he asked. It wasn’t as if there was any point in pretense. Everyone in Winterfell knew Sansa had been his guest yesterday. And they knew where she had slept. 

“She left, Your Grace,” one of his guards said. 

“Left where? To the kitchens?” This was more a hope on Jon’s part. 

The two guards shared a look between them. “No, Your Grace. She left Winterfell.”

Jon cursed and strode back into his bedchamber to dress himself. He was going to find Sansa and let her know that leaving his bed without telling him was unacceptable. It made him angry. And, it hurt. Why did she leave? Did she think she had spent the night with him just to fulfill their bargain? He’d told her their sharing a bed was not part of the deal. He wouldn’t do that to her. He liked to think he was more honorable than that, dammit. Did she now know that? Did she think he would renege on their deal if she didn’t couple with him?

Apparently, he had to set his Wildling down and have a nice long talk with her. 

And then his Hand, Davos Seaworth, came to get him for a meeting about the Wildlings and to hear petitions. Jon growled his frustration as he made his way down to the Great Hall. _Heavy is the head that wears the crown, indeed,_ he thought. Duties, duties, duties. They never ended. 

He blamed Sansa. If she hadn’t left, he wouldn’t be stalking the halls ready to shout at anyone who so much as crossed his path. Visions of taking Sansa over his knee for leaving him without a word or even a note came to mind and he started to smile, just a little, at the thought. He wondered how she’d react if he attempted such a thing. His smile broadened. He couldn’t wait to find out.


End file.
